Chapter 16- Your Knight

  Ryn stood before the carved doors of Ariel’s chamber, their gilded patterns glinting faintly in the torchlight. Beyond the windows, the city lay silent beneath a moonless sky.

  For a long moment, he just stood there, his hand still at his side. Then, quietly, he raised it and knocked—once, twice, the sound soft against the heavy wood.

  “Ariel. It’s me… Ryn.”

  No response.

  He waited, listening, but the only sound was the low hiss of the torches along the corridor.

  Would she even be awake? He wasn’t sure. She rarely sleeps these days, not properly. But it didn’t matter.

  Ryn let out a slow breath, his hand dropping away from the door. For a moment, he considered leaving. There was nothing more he could say, and she likely didn’t want company.

  But his legs didn’t move.

  Instead, he lowered himself to the floor beside the door, the soft clink of armor echoing faintly in the quiet. The marble was cold beneath him, seeping through his greaves, but he didn’t shift to ease it.

  He told himself he’d only stay a few minutes, just long enough to make sure she was alright.

  But minutes slipped away like water through his fingers.

  The torches burned low. The corridor had fallen completely still. Silver light from the high windows brushed faintly against the floor, tracing the edge of his cloak.

  He would be there.

  Even if she never opened the door.

  ***

  Ariel hadn’t slept.

  The chamber was silent except for the faint rustle of curtains shifting in the midnight wind. Her desk was a mess of parchment—reports, requests, lists of names she barely recognized but was somehow responsible for. The words bled together until they meant nothing at all.

  She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to dull the ache behind them. The council wanted answers. The people wanted strength. And her father… her father wanted perfection.

  It was always the same.

  Always something more she hadn’t done yet.

  She rose from her chair and crossed the room, her bare feet whispering against cold marble. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, silvering the floor. For a moment, she just stood there, staring out toward the distant towers.

  The city lay still, peaceful, asleep beneath the moon. Its gold veins gleamed against the night, faintly pulsing.

  Her reflection in the glass looked nothing like the princess she was supposed to be. Pale. Tired. Hair slightly out of place. She hated it. She hated looking weak.

  And still… a whisper she’d tried to bury pressed through anyway—the smallest part of her just wanted to stop. To breathe.

  But she couldn’t. Not now. Not when she was the only one left to hold it all together.

  So she turned back to her desk, to the half-finished letter she couldn’t bring herself to complete. The silence wrapped close again. Then—

  A knock.

  Soft. Careful.

  A pause, and a voice through the door.

  “Ariel… It's me. Ryn.”

  She froze.

  For a heartbeat, she thought she’d imagined it. But then came the quiet that followed—not expectant, not demanding. Just… there.

  Her chest tightened.

  Of all people—him? Now?

  She turned toward the door, torn between telling him to leave and saying nothing. Her hand lifted halfway to the latch before stopping, trembling faintly.

  For a long while, she didn’t move.

  And when she finally opened the door, she wasn’t sure why she had at all.

  ***

  Ryn heard the faint sound of movement come from within, he straightened. The door creaked, just slightly, and light spilled into the dim corridor.

  Ariel stepped out, her golden hair tousled, the edge of her gown brushing the floor. She blinked against the dim light, her eyes landed on him.

  For a heartbeat, neither spoke.

  “...Ryn?” Her voice was small, raw from lack of sleep. “What are you doing here?”

  He opened his mouth, but no clear answer came. His throat felt dry. “I—”

  He stopped, then exhaled softly. “Just keeping watch.”

  Ariel’s brows knit, confusion flashing before it twisted into something else. She stepped closer, eyes searching his face as if looking for the truth he wasn’t saying.

  “Keeping watch?” she echoed, the faintest tremor breaking through. “At my door?”

  She shook her head, a weak, disbelieving laugh escaping her. “You really are a fool.”

  Ryn didn’t argue. He only watched her, quietly.

  Then, all at once, the laugh gave way. Ariel’s breath hitched. Her hand rose to her face as if to stop it, but it didn’t, her shoulders trembled,and tears slipped hot and uninvited down her cheeks.

  “Why…” The word broke in her throat. “Why do you keep doing this? Why won’t you just leave me be?”

  Ryn didn’t move.

  He wasn't sure how to respond.

  Her fists clenched at her sides. “You stand there like you can fix it, like it’s so simple, but it isn’t. None of it is.”

  He swallowed. “I know.”

  She looked up at him sharply, golden eyes bright with frustration and grief. “Then why—?”

  Ryn’s answer was quiet, but steady. “I’m your knight, Ariel. That’s all there is to it.”

  He hesitated, then added, low but sure:

  “You don’t get to ask me to leave,” he murmured. “That’s not how it works.”

  The silence that followed was heavier than any argument. Ariel’s lips parted, but no sound came. Her hands fell to her sides, trembling faintly, then curled into her gown.

  For a long moment, she just stood there, breathing, trying to find her balance again. Then she turned away slightly, voice hoarse but calmer.

  “You’re impossible,” she muttered.

  Ryn gave a faint, almost unnoticeable smile. “So I’ve been told.”

  Ariel didn’t look back, but she didn’t tell him to leave either. She only stood there, drawing a slow, steadying breath. The faintest trace of dawn light caught her hair, turning it pale gold.

  The air between them went still. Ariel’s eyes wavered, just briefly. She turned her face aside, brushing a hand quickly beneath her lashes.

  She drew in a long, uneven breath. The tears were gone, but their weight lingered in her chest.

  When she spoke again, her voice was steadier, quieter. “You shouldn’t waste your time waiting outside doors, Ryn.”

  He replied. “Then open them sooner.”

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  That earned him the faintest exhale,half a sigh, half something close to a laugh. Ariel’s shoulders loosened a little. Then she drew a long breath, straightened, and stepped fully into the corridor.

  “Fine,” she said softly. “If you’re awake, then come with me.”

  Ryn pushed himself to his feet, frowning faintly. “Where are we going?”

  She adjusted the ribbon at her sleeve, her tone returning to something close to composure. “A court meeting,” she said, turning down the hall.

  Ryn blinked, caught off guard.Court? Now? Court meetings in preparation for the festival were usually limited to nobles and high-ranking officers, not stray knights dragged into dance lessons. His mouth pulled into a dubious frown.

  “Now?”

  Ariel didn’t look back. “Now.”

  For a second there was silence

  He opened his mouth, but no answer came. Ariel had already turned, skirts brushing against the stone floor as she strode away.

  For a heartbeat, he only stood there, watching the back of her golden hair sway with each determined step. The same girl who’d been brought to tears moments ago was marching toward the very chamber where every noble, every vulture, waited to tear at her weakness.

  However, this time she intended not to walk forward alone.

  He forced his feet to move, catching up at her side. Neither spoke. The echo of their footsteps filled the corridor, the silence heavier than words. Ariel lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing away the traces of her tears.

  ***

  The doors to the courtroom swung open with a groan, and Ryn stepped in just a pace behind Ariel.

  The chamber was nothing like the drill yards or even the great hall he was used to. Polished marble floors gleamed beneath chandeliers that hung like constellations of fire. Long banners of Solvara’s crest draped down the walls, their gold trim catching the light. The air was thick with the perfume of nobles, sharper still with the tension of too many eyes gathered in one place.

  And every one of those eyes seemed to land on him.

  Ryn felt it at once, the weight of stares, the prickling judgment rolling off the rows of nobles and officers gathered in their appointed seats. Murmurs rose like gnats, hushed and venomous, but they didn’t bother to hide the way they looked at him: the outsider, the lowborn knight walking into a sanctum that had never been meant for his kind.

  And the current rumours circulating in the palace did not help either

  Ryn, however, did not care; his face unreadable, he trailed after Ariel as she glided to her place. She was used to this air, to these walls; she looked at home where he only felt like an intruder.

  When they reached the front, Ariel moved toward her seat without hesitation. Ryn, meanwhile, slipped to the side, taking his place at the edge of the chamber near one of the towering pillars.

  Still, he could feel their eyes on him, lingering like wraiths, no matter how still he stood.

  But it wasn’t just the nobles.

  The King’s gaze shifted, catching the faintest flicker of movement as his daughter entered. For the briefest instant, his eyes lingered on her, not with warmth, nor pride, but with the detached eyes of a man regarding a possession that had wandered back to its place. Then, as though nothing had stirred in him at all, his expression leveled, returning to the same carved neutrality he always wore.

  Among the gathered officers sat the Royal Vanguard, gleaming in their armor, the King’s finest. Dolrak was among them, shoulders squared, eyes narrow as a drawn blade. He didn’t speak; he didn’t need to. The look he fixed on Ryn was enough. Disgust. Contempt. The same unshakable judgment that told Ryn, You! What are you doing here!. The rest of the Vanguard mirrored that same expression, a wall of silent loathing.

  The King’s voice carried easily through the chamber, measured and deliberate, smoothing over the restless hum of conversation. He began, as always, with pleasantries, thanking the nobles for their diligence and praising the laborers who worked without pause to ensure the Solvara Festival reached its grand opening. For a while, it was the usual rhythm of court: calm, ceremonial, reassuring.

  But then another noble spoke, tone shifting, only slightly, just enough to make the words land heavier.

  “There have been… reports,” he said, fingers steepled before him. “Isolated disturbances along the outer roads. Unexplained sightings. Whispers of creatures stirring where they should not. And—” his voice lowered slightly “—the mists from the old fields have begun to drift farther than before. Too close for comfort. Nothing confirmed, of course, and I would not have rumour ruin our joy, but it seems the closer we draw to the festival, the more frequent these tales become.”

  A ripple went through the chamber. Alarm, curiosity, and unease, but it dissolved almost as quickly as it came.

  “Likely nonsense,” one noble scoffed, his jeweled fingers tapping on the armrest of his chair. “Travelers see shadows where none exist when foreign guests are on the move. It’s nothing more than the Varghelm retinue drawing near, stirring fear in the common people.”

  Ryn, from his corner, caught the brief flicker of something in the King’s eyes before the mask settled back into place. It was gone in a breath, so fast that anyone else might’ve missed it.

  Murmurs of agreement followed, the unease neatly folded back into the ongoing tide of courtly chatter. The talk quickly turned again to schedules, guest lists,

  And the arrangement of guards for the night of the ball.

  “About the protection of the royal family,” one noble began, his tone smooth but edged, “wouldn’t it be wiser to assign the Princess’s safety to the Royal Vanguard, rather than… some unknown, low-ranking officer?”

  A low murmur rippled through the chamber, heads nodding in quick agreement. The words weren’t aimed at Ryn directly, yet every pair of eyes that flicked toward him made it clear who the target was.

  The King raised a hand, silencing the room. His voice carried with practiced weight.

  “This boy has already displayed his worth. He will remain as he is; my word is final.”

  For a moment, silence held. Then another noble, bolder than most, leaned forward.

  “Your Majesty, with respect… rumours spread quickly through the palace. Whispers say he assaulted multiple squires. Others claim he brings danger wherever he treads, even his presence alone nearly cost the Princess her life.”

  A few more voices joined in, hushed but sharp.

  “Peasant boy playing knight!”

  “A worm, not a knight...”

  “...Unfit to be at Her Highness’s side.”

  The accusations swelled like a tide, not loud enough to be called open rebellion, but enough to make their disdain unmistakable.

  And then, before the King could speak, Ariel rose.

  The chamber rippled with mutters, accusations layering like smoke. Ryn stayed still in his corner, letting their words wash over him. It was late, and truth be told, he was growing tired of the same venom dressed in finer words.

  “Enough,” she said, her voice cutting through the hall. “You question his worth, yet how many knights in this chamber can claim to have slain an Aberration? Not just any, but one of Rank Forgotten and class Curse.” She turned, her gaze sweeping the assembly with cold challenge. “I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. How many of you can boast the same?”

  The hall stilled, just for a moment. Then a noble scoffed, lips curling.

  “Convenient, is it not? That the only witnesses were you and… a maid.”

  Another leaned forward, seizing the thread. “A tale too wild to confirm, too fantastical to deny. And who’s to say the boy has not wormed his way into your confidence with tricks, manipulations? Perhaps he has already bent your judgment to his will.”

  A third voice rose, oily and mocking. “Or perhaps, Princess, you defend him not because of merit… but because of whatever hold he has over you. Surely it is not his station, nor his honor, that compels such loyalty.”

  The murmurs surged again, louder this time, fueled by scorn and suspicion. Her defense of Ryn was reduced to another “sympathy plea” in their eyes.

  Ryn stayed silent at the edge of the chamber, letting the nobles’ accusations swirl. Yet one thought made his face twist slightly.

  Control the princess? If such a person existed, he’d like to meet them, if only to learn how.

  Because from where he stood, Ariel was about as controllable as an aberration.

  But then the King raised a single hand. Silence fell like a hammer again.

  “If proof is what you require,” his voice rumbled, low and steady, “then you are welcome to test the boy’s strength yourselves. I would not stop you. But do not expect to return with all your limbs intact.” His eyes swept the room, daring even one of them to speak.

  He leaned back against his chair, tone sharpening. “Blessed Eldric himself still keeps the relic that the creature dropped. That alone should silence doubts. If even that is not evidence enough, then I must wonder…” his gaze hardened, “…whether fools of such caliber deserve to sit in this council at all.”

  The silence that followed was absolute. Not a single noble dared to rise, though the sharp glances exchanged between them said their doubts hadn’t vanished, only buried, for now.

  From his corner, Ryn shifted. He couldn’t tell if the King’s words had been meant as protection… or as a warning. The truth was, he wasn’t sure about anything when it came to the King.

  Ryn felt a strange unease.

  The meeting dragged on, words of trade, security, and endless festival details blurring into a drone. By the time the council was finally dismissed, the sun was rising, and the tower bells were tolling dawn.

  Ryn fell into step beside Ariel as the courtroom doors shut behind them with a heavy groan. The quiet of the marble corridor felt like a relief after the stifling air of the chamber.

  “Well,” Ryn muttered, his expression flat, “that was fun. I think I made about fifty new enemies there. Maybe more, if Dolrak counted twice.”

  Ariel’s lips twitched. “You should be flattered. Not everyone gets accused of secretly manipulating a princess.”

  Ryn gave her an empty sidelong look. “Yeah, that part was my favorite. Controlling you? If someone’s pulling that off, I’d really like to meet them and take notes.”

  She actually laughed at that, the sound soft but edged with relief. “Careful, or they’ll add ‘sarcastic menace’ to your growing list of titles.”

  “Great, Right under ‘worm’ and ‘peasant.’”

  Her expression softened, the smirk giving way to something more genuine. “For what it’s worth… Thank you for standing there and not flinching. They hate that.”

  “Didn’t know standing still was such a weapon,”.

  “With nobles?” Ariel’s eyes glinted. “It’s practically an art form.”

  She paused, her gaze lingering on him. There was a beat of silence. Then, softer than before, she added “…Thank you, Ryn.”

  “I mean it”

  With those words, Ryn left Ariel at her chambers. He lingered a moment outside her door, her whispered “thank you” still echoing faintly in his ears; For reasons he couldn’t quite name, it clung to him more than any insult he’d endured in the council hall.

  The thoughts twisting in his mind, he made his way back to his quarters, shutting the door behind him with a tired exhale, glad to finally be rid of the stares and whispers.

  Little did he know, outside those walls, the palace was already alive with murmurs. What had been said in the meeting had not stayed in the meeting. The accusations, the doubts, the sharp words exchanged, all of it was spreading like wildfire through the halls, passed from servant to guard, from guard to courtier. By the time the night deepened, Ryn’s name had become the story of the hour.

  His reputation, once shaky at best, had sunk far below rock bottom. And judging by the speed of the gossip, it was still falling.